You wont Remember
by Petrichor503
Summary: Was he dead?No he cant be! "SHERLOCK!" Moriarty was never going to let Sherlock walk away untouched that night after the pool. Rated M for use of drugs, rape, torture and language.
1. Chapter 1

"Jesus Sherlock! It smells like something's died in here…Sherlock?" The kitchen was a mess, as was the sitting room, what the bloody hell had he been doing he thought, there was no sign of him which made John worry, he didn't have any case and he certainly didn't go out to get milk, the chance would be a fine thing. Sherlock usually left notes or cryptic texts if he was out, but nothing, John rubbed his eyes in frustration. The smell of blood still wafted through the flat even after John had opened the windows, he set his mug of tea on the kitchen table and picked up yesterday's news paper, he didn't have a chance to read it due to Moriarty's games.

"Woo-hoo, oh what is that awful smell?" The familiar call of Mrs Hudson arose John from his paper; she picked up the mugs surrounding the table and started to wash them up.

"I thought you weren't our housekeeper?"

"You sound just like Sherlock; he's rubbing off on you." They both laughed at this as she wiped her hands on the kitchen tea towel.

"Yeah speaking of Sherlock, have you seen him this morning, did he rush out early, I haven't heard or seen him yet and it's nearly eleven."

"No sorry I haven't, have you checked his bedroom?" It had never crossed John's mind to look in the detective's bedroom, he never slept in, not in all the months that he had known him. Mrs Hudson took her leave after sighing at the organised mess of the sitting room, but everything was in its proper place, organised chaos! John placed his mug back on the table and slowly made for Sherlock's bedroom, the hallway was dark, maybe he was home he thought all though Sherlock never opened the curtains 'light is boring' he would say, nothing could of prepared John for what he saw in Sherlock's bedroom.

"Shit! Sher-SHERLOCK!" The detective laid paralysed in the middle of his bed, covered in blood, his own blood, the sheets were dripping with red, John stood frozen in the doorway as he looked at the lifeless form of his best friend, shattered and broken. Think John Think! All of his medical history vanished as he walked towards the body, god the smell of the blood was overwhelming, please don't be dead! He quickly shook him and checked for a pulse, but there was no movement, no reaction, was he dead? No he can't be!

"SHERLOCK!"

**6 Hours Earlier**

Moriarty slowly opened the door to 221B, it was always so easy to break into their apartment he giggled, the flat was extremely untidy, but it was always like that when he visited unknowingly. He straightened his clean shirt as he walked past the kitchen and towards Sherlock's bedroom.

The detective was asleep; which made the criminal smile as he silently entered the dark room, he stood and watched _his_ sleeping detective, he was such a beautiful sight and Moriarty was going to enjoy this. He took out a syringe from his pocket and pulled off the cap, he slowly got on top of Sherlock as he began to awake.

"Wha-what are-."

"Shhhh my dear, sleep, you won't remember any of this." He injected the syringe into the top of Sherlock's exposed arm, he struggled as his muscles started to relax and his eyes began to lower, he was completely helpless, his mind started to shut off, he couldn't think, why couldn't he think? He was beginning to panic but there was nothing he could do, all he could do was succumb to sleep.

"That's it sweetie, sleep for daddy. Did you think I would just let you walk out of that pool untouched? Rohypnol is a powerful drug; I'm sure you know it with a mind like yours; I gave you a bit more than I should of but-oh well!"

Sherlock was now fully asleep, his body was exposed and Moriarty began to take full advantage, he lifted the detective up so that he was half in the air. Moriarty undid his trousers and let them fall around his ankles, it was a shame he wouldn't get to hear his detective scream, just thinking about it got him hard, he positioned himself and slammed into Sherlock, he was so tight and he knew it would tear him, that's what he wanted. This was not an act of kindness; he wanted to destroy him, inside and out!

Blood began to trickle down the inside of Sherlock's leg as Moriarty thrust in and out deeper and harder, he dug his nails into the lifeless hips which drew more blood out of the detective, he got out his pocket knife as he began to quicken his pace inside Sherlock. He took the knife and slowly began to carve his name into the back of his victim, carving him deep so that he would never forget who he belonged to, he slide his finger over the blood and licked it off as it began to fall onto the white sheets, he moaned and laughed at the body beneath him, so helpless, and defenceless, where was your pet now he thought as he yanked Sherlock back by his hair as he exploded in the detective. He couldn't make too much noise so he silently calmed down his breathing, he didn't want to wake Johnny boy.

He pulled out of the detective as he finished carving his name, beautiful he thought. Sherlock was covered in his own blood mixed with Jim's semen, but he wasn't done yet, oh no, he was just getting started.

"Mmmmm oh look at you, not so great now are you, you belong to me Sherlock!"

He wiped his knife clean as he slowly inserted it into Sherlock's arse, he gently cut each side of the opening which immediately began to pour with thick red blood, the smell was gorgeous, he wriggled the knife around as he took out another larger knife and began the process again, starting with the top of his legs and working his way down, he drew lines and lines of blood as he tore the skin apart, his flesh glistened as Moriarty traced his finger around the untouched skin as he laughed at the pain Sherlock would endure when he finally woke up. He yanked the knife out of Sherlock's arse which made more blood flow out, the tissue inside would be completely damaged.

The torture continued for another hour, Moriarty dosed him with more Rohypnol to make sure he was fully unconscious because he was going to hurt from the amount of pain that he endured from the criminal, there wasn't not an inch of his body untouched apart from his beautiful face, the rest was painted red. When Moriarty was finished he once again fucked the broken detective.

"Well this has been so much fun! But here baby, you're going to hurt so much, so I am going to give you something for the pain and for my own amusement." He pulled out a third syringe and slammed it into the inside of Sherlock's arm.

"I know how much you need the drugs sweetie." He gently kissed the top of his detectives head and left through the door. Sherlock did not stir, his body was dead, his muscles started to awaken as the heroin spread across his veins like fire. His body started to convulse as his body went into shock, he was still unconscious as his pulse started to decrease, the blood started to trickle down his face as his breathing finally stopped.

**Note: This is an incredibly dark chapter I apologise. All of the drugs I mention are real especially Rohypnol which is more commonly known as the date rape drug. Thank you for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

John held on the wall for support as the paramedics stood around Sherlock's broken body, he was dead he knew it, there was no pulse. Mrs Hudson waited silently in the sitting room waiting for the news that she knew would come, he wasn't going to wake, he was gone, a tear fell from her cheek and on to her praying hands. John was still in shock, how long was he there for? The amount of dried blood indicated to him that he had been lying on his own death bed for some time. This made John heavy with pain, he slowly fell to the floor as he saw the resuscitation of his best friend, his chest rose and fell and this was repeated, over and over again but there was no response. John put his head in his hands as the tears began to flow, he heard the distant talking of the paramedics, they had called it, Sherlock was dead!

The body suddenly heaved and coughed as Sherlock started to breathe again, John rushed up and leaned over the detective, he was still unconscious but he was alive. God he was alive! John laughed as the paramedics pulled him away, they crowded back around Sherlock who was slowly breathing, they were all gobsmacked that this brilliant man had survived. The stretcher was brought in and he was gently taken out and put into the back of the ambulance. John and Mrs Hudson cried with joy as they both got into the ambulance. The pain of losing Sherlock if only for a few minutes were excruciating, but he was alive!

They rushed him straight into theatre once at Bart's hospital, his injuries were severe and they didn't know if he would make it a second time but John knew he would, he had too. The flashes of red danced in and out of his mind as he remembered the blood stained sheets and the name carved into his back, it was savagery, the images made him feel sick, he sprinted into the bathroom and heaved until there was nothing left in his stomach, he flushed the chain and stood in front of the mirror, he was pale and the bags under his eyes were expanding.

"John, what can do for you?"

"Hi Greg- I don't really know how to say this-."

"John, what's happened, its Sherlock isn't it, please tell me he's not back on the drugs."

"No- he's-he's been attacked."

"What! Where are you?"

"Bart's hospital-."

"I will be there in 10 minutes."

Lestrade didn't know the full devastation of the attack until John told him in the silence of the waiting room, he was shocked and disgusted that something like this had happened to Sherlock. Mycroft was next, he was livid and concerned but he would wait until Sherlock woke up which didn't mind John, Mycroft was a difficult man to entertain.

John, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade waited six hours until the doctor finally came through the door wearing his surgery scrubs. John immediately stood.

"What happened, is he okay?"

"Calm down Doctor Watson he is in intensive care, the surgery was extensive and his wounds were fatal, to be honest I am surprised that he survived, we lost him briefly in theatre but he's strong. We have repaired the tissue damage in his anal canal, and we have stitched up the damage to the outside area. But Doctor Watson we found a large amount Rohypnol and heroin in his system, the mixture combined can be fatal and we are concerned that he won't even remember the attack."

"When can I see him?"

"I will collect you when we move him to a ward, he is still unconscious, he has lost a substantial amount of blood and will need to be surveyed, but at the moment he is out of the woods."

Sherlock was moved to a private ward, the courtesy of Mycroft Holmes. He was still sleeping but the effects of the Rohypnol were starting to wear off, when his eyes began to open he saw the bright ceiling lights, his turned his head and saw a sleeping John next to him, his hand in his, where was he, what had happened? He started to panic as he realised where he was, why was he in a hospital and why was there a tear rolling down his face? He wiped the tear away and began to sit up, this woke John who looked up at Sherlock with wide eyes, he embraced Sherlock which made him wince with pain, why was he in pain he thought? John let him go but kept hold of his hand, he could see that the detective was confused.

"Wh-why am I here John?"

"You probably don't remember-."

"Remember what? John what happened?" John took his time as he sighed and leant back into the visitor's chair, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson had left after they saw that he was alive, Sherlock looked hurt and confused.

"Sherlock you were…you were raped-."

"Pardon! Don't you think I would have remembered something like that John." His tone was cold but there was a hint of sadness to it, John could see the pain in his eyes.

"Moriarty he-he broke in, injected you with Rohypnol and raped you, the bastard tore you apart Sherlock, you-you died." John felt his eyes blur, he knew the tears would shortly follow. Sherlock was silent, he didn't remember a thing, what did they even do yesterday?

"I-I don't-." His body began to convulse as he went into shock, the pain was over taking him, the nurse rushed in and held him down as the doctor gave him a sedative, this calmed him down and controlled his breathing.

"Johnn" his eyes closed once more as his body collapsed.

"It's okay Sherlock, I'm here."


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock stood naked staring into the bathroom mirror, the nurse had let him go by himself this time and he wanted to take advantage of the free time, he looked closer at the scars on his torso, the colours differentiated from how deep the wounds were, the colours of pink, purple, yellow and green covered his skeletal body especially around his hips, the nail and bite marks were healing but the sight was horrific. He closed his eyes and sighed loudly, this wasn't his body.

He spun around to see the back which was just as shocking, he lifted the dressing and the gauze which revealed the scarred name, it was spread across his pale skin with such precision that it made Sherlock wince, he gently touched the scar which was hard and red he moved his finger up and down some of the letter to make sure that it was really there, that it was real.

He glanced down at the back of his skinny legs where the damage was just the same, he looked and felt ashamed, his body had been betrayed and abused, but had it? He couldn't remember anything so did it happen? This question bounced and thrashed inside his head as he put on his hospital dressing gown. He looked away from the mirror and opened the small window, his breath was shallow as he inhaled the sweet drug he so longed for, the smell was beautifully intoxicating which made the detective relax.

"Mr Holmes!" The nurse knocked on the door which awoke Sherlock out of his moment of peace.

"No smoking allowed on the premises you know that, there are facilities outside if you wish to smoke."

"Why smoke outside when there is a perfect window in the bathroom, and besides I am finished now." He exited the bathroom and placed the cigarette butt into the nurses open hand, he smiled at her and returned painfully to his bed, the nurse lingered as she watched him, the look on his face showed pain and suffering but also the confusion he must feel, she felt sorry for him.

"I do not need your pity nor your assistance so if you wouldn't mind, please feel free to get back to your tedious job, even though you're looking for a new one. May I recommend Charing Cross hospital, they could use another shit nurse! you could waste your time on their patients instead!" Sherlock looked straight in her eyes as he insulted the poor woman, not that he cared, what was she to him? The nurse stood shocked at the end of his bed, how did he know about Charing Cross hospital?

"I'm not even going to ask." His words did not affect her one bit and this disappointed him. She left the room passing John on the way out. He entered to a sulking Sherlock, this was going to be fun he thought. It had been a few weeks since the sickening attack and John had been there by Sherlock's side every day; he couldn't bring himself to stay away especially with Sherlock losing his mind to boredom.

"Ah no morning abuse? You must be having a good day." He slumped down on the chair and looked at his best friend who had his head sandwiched in-between two pillows.

"Sherlock?"

"I have no need to talk to anyone inferior today so go away" his muffled words made John sigh, Sherlock sat up and threw the pillow to the floor. John sat up.

"I have good news."

"Did you finally get a date? You've been looking at the doctor for weeks just fuck him and get it out of the way!"

"Gosh aren't you a moody buggar today. And no I haven't asked him out yet this is about you." Sherlock sat up but winced slightly, John caught this and looked down then up again.

"They are releasing you today, well once the doctor has seen you."

"Maybe you can finally ask him out when he comes to see my beautiful body!" there was anger in his voice and sadness, John hadn't seen his healed wounds yet no one had, only the doctor but John had seen them when he found him, in his bedroom covered in thick blood, dying and then coming back to life, it was a miracle that Sherlock was here.

"Fine I will, if it will make you happy, but didn't you hear me?"

"Yes I am being discharged today, can't you see the excitement and joy on my face?" His face was blank and his sarcasm was annoying. John sighed and leant back into the chair and started on his morning paper.

"Right Mr Holmes, your wounds are healing nicely but I want to see you once a week to make sure that there is no further infection, you must see your local GP for dressing renewal but I'm sure Doctor Watson is more than capable of seeing to that. I need you to take it easy so don't over exert yourself, your body is still recovering and is still in shock by the results of your blood test so I would recommend a counsellor-"

"No!"

"Pardon?"

"I said no! I don't need any counsellor, my body and my mind is perfectly fine, all I need is a case."

"But Mr Holmes, you have been victim-."

"If I hear that word one more time I will scream! Ah poor Sherlock was raped, fucked and he didn't even know it because he was asleep! Helpless victim, well you know shit! Your tiny mind can't even consider what I am going through, so don't give me all that victim crap!" Sherlock was raising his voice now but he still stood still facing the doctor, John was shocked at the language coming from his mouth, this wasn't the Sherlock he knew.

"I meant no offence- but anyway, you just need to sign the form then you can go home I will go and fetch it." John watched him as he left the room then turned round to face Sherlock.

"Well that was nice, Jesus Sherlock can't you be nice for just two minutes, he's been to hell and back for you but now that I think about it we all have and you are treating us like shit! I know you have been through a lot and I will never understand, but please let me help you, I want to help Sherlock."

"If you want to help then you will drop it, never mention it again, as if it never happened which to me it never did!"


	4. Chapter 4

John was awoken by the clattering and banging beneath him; he rolled over and buried his face in his sheets. Sherlock was creating some obscene experiment which took up the entire kitchen; he had been at home for a week with no cases from Lestrade, he was deemed unfit to work which just sent the detective round the bend, destroying half the living room and the kitchen. His rage was anticipated, John knew he had been there with his PTSD, god knows he wanted to destroy everything after they invalided him home from Afghanistan.

John slowly got up and looked around to the body that was asleep in his bed; he quietly exited the room and made his way down to the construction zone that was his apartment.

"You finally fucked my doctor then." Sherlock was lying silently on the sofa in his dressing down as John walked into the kitchen.

"How- oh never mind. Did you sleep well?"

"mmmm yes the sofa is more than satisfactory."

"I did offer you my bed."

"Does it come with the naked doctor or is that just a onetime thing?" Sherlock smiled as John returned to the living room with their tea.

"No it does not, and besides I thought you couldn't…. anyway here is your tea." Sherlock closed his eyes at the small reminder of his attack; he was advised by the doctor to not perform anything over exerting which meant sexual activities. The Doctor came down the stairs and lingered in the doorway; John walked over and placed a small kiss on his lips for his goodbye.

"So how was he?"

"Sherlock you don't need to know any of that."

"Fine, leave I'm busy."

"Doing what?"

"What does it look like, I'm lying here and wallowing in myself pity, I would like to do it alone now if you wouldn't mind."

John sighed and made his way back up to his room leaving Sherlock in the dark; he closed the door and sat down on his bed holding his head in his hands.

He showered and dressed before he noticed the small parcel on his desk as he went for the door; it was neatly wrapped and finished with a bow. He picked it up and read the small card that accompanied the gift.

_Beloved John, watch this and then we will talk._

He tore the wrapping and looked at the DVD case beneath; he placed the white disc into his laptop, sat down and hit play. He saw the darkness of Sherlock's bedroom and the clear view of Moriarty plunging the needle into his arm, he knew what was about to happen, he saw Sherlock collapse from the drug and witnessed Moriarty's brutal, sick attack, he didn't once look away, he needed to know what happened that night, he needed to know how he was left for dead, how long it went on for. He saw the blood fall from Sherlock's back and onto the sheets, it wasn't long before they were covered, this made John feel physically sick, the man that was so brilliant, so amazing and fantastic was being torn apart inside and out, Moriarty turned and smiled at the camera as he added another dose of the Rohypnol into Sherlock, then looked deep at the camera as he inserted the knife into the sleeping detective, John rushed to the toilet as he threw up, he heaved but could not get the sick image out of his head, he flushed the chain and washed his face as his phone started to vibrate in his pocket.

**NUMBER BLOCKED**

"Hello?"

"Johnny boy, oh how lovely to hear your voice, I see that you have watched my little home video, one for the album don't you think." His cruel, loud laugh made John livid.

"You sick, twisted-."

"Now now Doctor You don't want our dear Sherlock to hear, he's sleeping, I'm not surprised after the night we had, but you know that don't you Johnny boy you've seen the video."

There was silence as John rubbed his eyes.

"What do you want?"

"That's the spirit. I want Sherlock! He belongs to me and he's even got the scar to prove it. That was just the beginning, I will have his body whether he likes it or not, well not that he can even remember a thing, Rohypnol was a very good idea, he didn't feel a thing and he has no memory, mmmmm, perfect!

"You can't have him, I will give my life to make sure that he is protected and safe from you!"

"Ah I'm touched, your love for him is inspiring but he will never love you back and you know it. Poor Doctor Watson always the friend, never the lover, do you want to know what it was like? How tight he was, how I came into his arse and how he moaned until he finally slept, would you like to know that my hard cock tore him, how I filled him, and touched him and-."

"Stop!"

"Don't you want to hear more, hmm fine I'll stop."

"Why call me?"

"I just wanted you to know, I'm nice like that you see, but just one more thing, something for you to think about. When I inserted that needle slowly he let out a soft moan and a name escaped his beautiful tender lips, can you guess who it was?" John looked down as a tear fell from his cheek and onto the tiled floor of the bathroom.

"Me."

"Well done dear, I'll see you both soon, oh and give my love to Sherlock."

The line went dead and it fell from Johns shaking hands and onto the hard floor, he watched in slow motion as it smashed into pieces. He ejected the disc from his laptop and placed it back into the box. He slowly made his way into the dark living room and stood above Sherlock who was watching him carefully.

"John?" There was concern in his voice as he saw John's pale face, he held out the DVD box for Sherlock.

"Sherlock there is something I need you to see."


	5. Chapter 5

John lay silently in his bed; he had been up for a few hours now just staring up at the dark ceiling, thinking, wondering and remembering. Reoccurring questions clouded his mind, the biggest one was why. Why Sherlock?

Sherlock was breathing heavily next to him; he had been sleeping with John ever since they had got home from the hospital even though he spent a few nights on the sofa. He didn't even step foot into his old bedroom, especially after watching Moriarty's video, it had sent Sherlock down the path of depression, he didn't talk, barely ate, he wouldn't even leave the flat. His body grew weaker every day from his malnutrition, but there was nothing that John could do, Sherlock was giving up and all John could do was watch from the sidelines.

Sherlock stirred as he turned over to face John, he was still fast asleep, that's all he ever seemed to do lately. John stared at his exposed stomach, the scars were perfectly healed now, but the skin pigment was still different, he longed to touch them, to run his fingers over the massacre of his skin, to John he was still so beautiful, his perfect detective but Sherlock always covered up, he never let his guard down, the scars were always hidden away as a distant memory, not that Sherlock could remember, only the images of the video showed him what had happened that night, but Sherlock still refused to acknowledge the attack, he didn't bring it up but John needed to talk about it, he needed to know what was going on his brilliant damaged mind, how was he coping?

"I can't do it anymore Sherlock." Sherlock rubbed his eyes as John shook him awake, the purple bags under his eyes were brighter than John had ever seen them, it was clear that the detective hadn't slept much.

"mmm do what?"

"I can't go on forgetting, I need to talk about it and I need for you to talk about it." Sherlock sighed and sat up.

"There is nothing to talk about John." John could feel his rage rising, this had to work; he needed to know what he was going through.

"Like shit there's nothing! Sherlock you were attacked! You can try and forget it but it happened and I need to talk about it, I can't keep it bottled in anymore."

"I can't even remember it happening, so as far as I'm concerned it never happened! Now please drop it." John could feel his face heating up, it was all going to come out now, he couldn't hold it back anymore.

"You were raped! You died, how can I just drop it? I remember standing over your lifeless body, praying that you would wake up, you were dead and all I thought was how I was never going to see you again, how I would never hear your deductions, and all I thought whilst you were lying there was that I wanted to die too." Tears fell as he clutched Sherlock's shaking hand.

"Please John, please stop."

"I can't Sherlock, I need for you to talk to me and I need you to hear this. My world stopped for the whole time that you were pronounced dead, for the time that you were in surgery, then in intensive care and how I never left your side until you finally awoke, I held your hand whilst you fell asleep and I can't just forget because every time I see you I want to wrap my arms around you and protect you."

Sherlock's face fell, how could he listen to this, he just wanted to forget, but every time he looked in the mirror he was reminded of the brutality Moriarty inflicted on him.

"John-I can't-."

"Yes you can you need to shout, scream, please for me I need to know that you acknowledge what happened and that you want to heal because with all the power I possess I will help you, I will never leave."

"I- I was r-raped!"

"That's it come on, be angry, it's okay." Sherlock began to scream and shout as he collapsed his head onto John's shoulder; John could feel the wet tears trickle down his back, Sherlock finally accepted the damage, and John wasn't going anywhere.

"Please don't leave me John, I'm scared, I'm terrified-."

"I know, just relax try and sleep for me okay, I'm not going to leave you." They both fell back on to the mattress; Sherlock still had his head on John's shoulder as he played with his dark curls which soon sent Sherlock off to a deep sleep. John stared once again at the ceiling; he caressed Sherlock's cheek as he whispered to him.

"I love you."


	6. Chapter 6

The shrill, malevolent laugh echoed around the hotel room, the light burst through the plush curtains and reflected off of the mirrors that surrounded the place, the dark figure sat with his back turned staring intently at the flat screen television above the white fireplace, he was clutching his stomach as he watched his boss in action, how amazingly beautiful he was, he had been working with Jim for three years now as a colleague and partial lover, he knew he wanted the detective, and so did he. Moran wanted Sherlock under him, at his mercy; he wanted to please the master. He paused the video and rewound it to re-watch the knife enter the detective, he began to touch the bulge in his jeans as Moriarty silently crept up behind him, he yanked his hair back so that they were looking into each other's eyes, Jim's eyes were full of danger and lust which made Moran fidget under his grasp.

"What are you doing?" There was slight anger to his voice.

"Just admiring your detective and skill full handy work Sir." His voice was seductive and alluring, the pain in his groin was growing with every touch from Moriarty, he could feel the bulge grow and moaned.

"Hmmmm need some help with that?" He indicated to his jeans, he let the grip on Sebastian's head go and sat down next to him carefully unbuttoning his trousers as Moran pressed play on the video, Jim placed his delicate fingers around Sebastian's hard length and began to slowly rub up and down, he began to move his tongue over his neck licking towards his panting lips, this kiss was force full as he attacked with his tongue, the sounds from the video echoed around the room, the moans from Sherlock as Jim entered the needle made Jim want Sebastian even more. He groaned against his lips as his hand started to move more rapidly up and down.

"Ahhhhhh, More Sir"

"Roll over!" Jim stopped and quickly removed his trousers as Moran rolled over with his legs wide ready for his Master; he slid his pants down to his ankles as Moriarty positioned himself, he let out a cry of pleasure as he entered Moran, he thrust deep and hard until Sebastian screamed, he turned his head to look at the television screen where he was fucking his detective, this made him go faster, imagining that Sherlock was beneath him, that he was the one moaning not Moran, he wanted Sherlock Holmes and he would soon be his.

"Ahhh-fu-fuck-faster." Jim held the side of Sebastian's hips as he quickened his pace, his face was dripping with sweat as he leant around and began to stroke his toy once more, Moran's eyes rolled back from pleasure as he let out an orgasmic howl, Jim kept going until he too collapsed from his paralytic orgasm.

"AHHH-shit." He rolled off and passed Moran a towel, doing up his trousers he looked once more at an unconscious Sherlock before he switched off the television.

"Don't you have work to do?" His tone was bitter and angry, he didn't want Sebastian he wanted Sherlock and Moran knew this.

"I'm never good enough for you am I? It's always Holmes."

"Just think of the fun I can have with him, when he willingly comes to me, and I will make him come!" They both laughed at this.

"What about his pet?"

"He is imperative to my plan."

"Yeah and when are we executing this plan Sir?"

"All in good time my dear, now get back to work." Moran started to walk away as Moriarty called after him.

"Oh and if I catch you watching my video again you will be at the end of your own sniper, understood?"

"Perfectly Sir."


	7. Chapter 7

Sherlock tensed as John's hand started to trail down his exposed stomach, over his scars and towards the button in his trousers.

"Stop-John stop." He sat up and rubbed his eyes, he couldn't do it, his heart was racing from the pleasure of John's tongue but he just couldn't bring himself to be touched, not yet.

"It's okay Sherlock, just take your time, if you're not ready its fine." He wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist and drew him in closer.

"I'm sorry John." John held the detective's head in both his hands as he tenderly kissed his forehead.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, you-you have been through so much shit, its completely natural to be hesitant." Sherlock stood up, buttoned up his silk plum shirt and walked into the dark kitchen.

"I can't keep running from this." He took out a small glass and filled it with pure golden whisky.

"Well that's not going to help." Sherlock downed back the liquid and turned to face the window, the darkness of London was illuminated by small colourful lights from the pavement, how the world kept turning he thought. John walked up behind him and placed his arms around Sherlock's thin frame resting his head on his back, Sherlock placed his hands on John's and sighed.

"I'm angry John."

"Tell me why, come on we need to communicate, let it all out."

"I'm angry because my own mind has betrayed me, I have always been certain, could always rely on my memories, could always remember, but now I-I don't trust myself. God! I need you John, I want you, so badly, you have no idea, but I just can't."

"Shhh its okay, we can wait, I told you I'm not going anywhere, I love you and that's not going to change whether we have to wait a week or a year." Sherlock turned around to face John; he leant down and rested the top of his forehead on John's.

"There's something I need you to do."

"What is it?"

"I need the DVD." John let his grip go and stepped back.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely, this is something I need to do." John walked to the book shelf and produced the DVD from behind a stack of books, he handed it to Sherlock who took it willingly. He turned it over in his hand then threw it onto the fire; he watched as the sparks of the red embers burst, the DVD began to melt around the flames, a weight had been lifted.

"Feel better?"

"I'm not sure yet."

"You didn't watch it did you?" The warmth from the fire filled John as he stared at the orange flames.

"It was unnecessary to watch something that I have no recollection of, I know you watched it and I am deeply sorry to have inflicted that upon you, it must have been hard for you."

"You don't have to apologise, it's me who should apologise for trying to make you watch it, it was insensitive, I just thought with the blank you have, the video would fill it in, I was wrong." They spent some time on the sofa of the living room staring into the flames as the rest of the DVD melted into nothing, John fell asleep on Sherlock's shoulder whilst Sherlock's brain raced out of control, it rarely stopped but he needed to get out of here, he felt like he was suffocating. He gently rested John's head on the pillow and made for his coat and scarf on the back of the living room door.

He silently walked out of 221B and towards the nearest café, the winter wind hit like a knife as the bitterness of winter finally took over, he watched as a drunk couple danced hand in hand down the street and passed him, how normal and unaffected they were, as if he was a ghost, a ghost of his former brilliant self, he had Moriarty to thank for that. He left Baker Street and took a left to the illuminated coffee shop at the end of the road; it was empty apart from a few lonely customers, drinking their sorrows away after a drunken night of alcohol and drugs. He slumped down at the table nearest the back, he kept his coat on as the waitress came over, she looked like death ready to collect him from his pitiful life.

"What can I get you?"

"Coffee, black, two sugars."

"That will be £2.75" Sherlock took out his wallet as a dark figure sat down opposite him.

"I'll get that." He handed the waitress a fifty pound note. Sherlock started to panic as he heard the silky tone of the devil himself.

"Keep the change darling." The waitress smiled as she took the money and walked away.

Sherlock kept his eyes fixed on Moriarty, his heart rate started to increase as the criminal removed his jacket.

"Gosh it's cold out there." Sherlock didn't reply he just kept staring, Jim smiled as the waitress came back with Sherlock's coffee, and an extra for Jim.

"Mmmm the silent treatment, I seem to remember that the last time we met, well I say met, fucked would be the more appropriate word, not that you can remember." He chuckled as Sherlock sipped his coffee.

"Come on darling say something; let me hear that seductive voice of yours." Sherlock blew on his coffee as he kept on drinking; he had nothing to say to his abuser.

"No? Nothing, hmm, fine I'll just have to ask the questions." He started his questions with John. Sherlock snapped.

"You leave him out of this!"

"Oh the mute speaks! Getting a little too attached to the pet are we?"

"Leave him out of this; he has nothing to do with you."

"You see that's where you are wrong, but anyway, How are the scars, healing nicely?"

"All healed, no thanks to you, the name on my back was a tad unnecessary."

"Oh it was necessary. You belong to me Sherlock, we are two sides of the same coin, and that coin belongs to me. Just think of it, me, you, I could show you so much."

"Show me what? How to inject someone with Rohypnol or how to rape someone whilst their unconscious."

"Sounds quite good when you say it." He smiled at Sherlock who was still staring into the dark pit of his eyes, his head was beginning to feel strange but he shrugged it off.

"Why me?"

"Because I need you just as much as you need me, I want to own you, inside and out but I want you to come willingly this time."

"You wi-will have a long wai-wait, if-if you think I- I will come with you." His words started to slur as he blinked the blurriness out of his vision.

"You have about five minutes before you sleep, try not to fight it, it will only make it worse, if you won't come willingly I will just have to convince you." Sherlock began to panic, but there was no one in the café everyone had gone except for the waitress who was looking at the small television screen.

"Wha-what?" His head began to spin as he attempted to stand, his body weighed so much that he collapsed back onto the chair, his heavy head rolled forward as he looked up at Moriarty who was grinning down at him.

"You're losing your deductive skills dear, didn't you see me hand the waitress something special in-between that fifty pound note, it was in your coffee, you should really be more careful." Sherlock's eyes began to dance in and out of consciousness as he looked over at the waitress who gave him a pitiful glance.

"You're getting sloppy, what happened to the fantastic Consulting Detective, did I break him?" Moriarty put his coat back on and hoisted Sherlock from his chair.

"Come on dear, I think its bed time for you." He gave the waitress a smile and another fifty pound note for her silence. He helped Sherlock into the waiting car outside of the café, he was still awake but his limbs were starting to succumb to sleep, he moaned as Moriarty let him fall on the leather seats of the black Audi, once Sherlock was secure Jim placed a tender kiss on his soft sleeping lips.

"Sleep well."

Jim slammed the door closed and got into the driver's seat; he looked in the rear view mirror to see Sherlock sleeping peacefully, the car roared to life as they disappeared into the darkness.


	8. Chapter 8

**THE PERSONAL BLOG OF H. WATSON**

**26****th**** November **

**Destruction of the Detective**

What can I possibly have to say about the last few months, they have been manic to say the very least, me and the detective have spent too much time at hospitals, doctors appointments and therapists even though Sherlock still refuses to talk to any of them, I'm fine he would say. He's not though how could he be, he once told me that people see but do not observe, I never knew how right he was; they don't see what they don't want to I guess, they refuse to see his frailty, his tiredness, the scared look he gets when someone tries to touch him, they don't see it but It's there. He would shoot the wall (again) if he knew I was writing this, the truth is that he was raped, the brilliant, extraordinary man was abused in his own home and in his own bed by the very man who sought to destroy him. He died in front of me and I thought the world had ended but a miracle happened, the paramedics were astounded, after all he went through, he was alive, the bastard held on!

I went back into his room a few days after he awoke from his extensive surgery, it smelt of death, the blood stained sheets had been burned, but the remains of that night were still fresh in the air. The room was dark as the curtains hadn't been drawn for days, I cleaned his room from top to bottom, I just sat there for a while on his bed staring at the small blood stain on the carpet, the reminder of the horror he was inflicted, and the horror I endured watching him being rushed to the hospital. Gosh that was a hell of a night. But he doesn't remember, it's not amnesia or anything like that it was Rohypnol, the date rape drug that rendered his body lifeless and his memory wiped.

I told him that I loved him, and I do, I would do anything for him, I just want to help him. I see him sometimes just looking into the dark abyss of his soul, he's lost; he doesn't deduce anymore, he has given up. The great consulting Detective has been broken. I want to fix him to tell him that it's going to be alright but what do I know? I'm just the assistant, the blogger. When I came back from the War, I struggled with everyday life even walking to the shops proved to be a task, I even considered suicide once or twice to be free from the miserable life I possessed, that's until I met him, all those months ago at Barts, he was eccentric, mad, wonderful, arrogant, he was even a bit of a dick but Sherlock showed me a different way of living, he mended me, fixed me and loved me. I can never repay him for what he gave me. But now he needs me, I have to fix him this time.

We were called on a case last Monday in Regents Park, a murder of a teenager, he was so young, the cause of death was strangulation, his larynx was crushed, and then his throat slit, the sight was horrendous, it made me shudder to think what that poor boy went through but my priority was Sherlock, he took one look at the blood and nearly collapsed out of fear, he held tightly onto my arm throughout the whole crime scene, but he couldn't look at the body, he couldn't deduct anything about the boy not even his age. Detective Inspector Lestrade witnessed his small panic attack and told him to go home and get help, professional help. Sherlock could feel himself slipping away I could see it in his eyes, the sorrow seemed to leak out of him, after that he didn't talk for days, didn't eat and barely slept. His violin became his saviour, it took him out of his mind and to a place where no one could touch him, I never understood his attachment but now I see that it's an escape, how he deals with his pain, it's saddening to listen to when there is nothing I can do all I can do is listen to is the melancholy of the music.

Sherlock has been missing for two days now; it's not the first time he has left unexpectedly, but this time it's different, he left a note before he left which read.

_We need milk, be back soon._

He never gets the milk, never has and I'm sure he never will, I am now beginning to worry especially with his state of mind at the moment. I called Sherlock's brother Mycroft, he has eyes and ears everywhere in London and he has seen nothing, heard nothing. Don't worry, my brother does this sometimes he said. He told me that once Sherlock vanished for a whole week from an argument with their mother, he came home perfectly fine, with no saying of where he went or what he was doing. I hope that's the case, I just want him home and safe where no one can harm him. I just hope that when he returns I can be the man I know I can be.


	9. Chapter 9

Lestrade rushed up the stairs of 221B. John was reading in his chair by the fire but immediately looked up as the door swung open and the Detective Inspector entered, he was out of breath and panting as John put his book down and walked over to him.

"Greg?"

"That's-a lot-of stairs-." He was still breathing heavily as he pulled out a plain piece of paper from inside his coat pocket. He handed it to John.

"What's this?"

"Just read it, it's addressed to you." He opened the piece of paper and read.

_07783971666-Call me Johnny Boy-JM_

He folded the paper and closed his eyes. Sherlock!

"I'm guessing the JM stands for James Moriarty?"

"Yeah, but why didn't he just call me, he has my number, it doesn't make sense, but then again that man never makes sense, he's insane."

"Yeah, where's Sherlock, is he asleep?"

"Sherlock's been missing for three days now-."

"Excuse me! Why haven't you reported this?" Lestrade followed John into the kitchen as he put the kettle on.

"Mycroft said that he did this sometimes, that he vanished for days and then turned up out of the blue-."

"He also hasn't done it since he was a child or did Mycroft fail to mention that. How did he seem before he left?" They both sat down at the kitchen table opposite each other, Greg looked tired but then so did John, he had been up all night waiting to hear from Sherlock, but no luck, he only managed to get a few hours sleep.

"I didn't see him go, I fell asleep on his shoulder and then when I woke up he was gone, he left a note but it wasn't very convincing, here." He handed Greg the small note that was lying under the mass of bills.

"What were you doing before you fell asleep, was he manic, upset?"

"We were umm- well anyway he had a bit of a moment in front of the fire where he was just terrified, but then again at the moment he's always scared and I don't blame him, I just- I just want him safe." Greg leant over and placed his hand on top of John's to console him.

"I know, I think you need to call the number, it's for you after all, but I need to know if this is of any threat to the public, especially after last times bombing."

"I will call you if it's anything serious, thanks Greg." Lestrade finished his tea, patted John on the shoulder and made his way out of 221B, John was alone once again.

John picked up his phone and dialled the number, it rang for a few seconds before someone answered, there was no voice on the other end, just a painful heavy breathing, and then a sharp scream filled John's ear until Moriarty finally spoke.

"Johnny Boy" His voice was happy and gleeful, the scream still echoed in the background which made the hairs on the back of John's neck stand up.

"What's that screaming?"

"Oh that. That's just my new pet, I'm breaking him in, but I think he wants to talk to you." John heard as Jim passed the phone over. John's blood stopped as he heard the soft moan of his detective, he sounded weak and frail. John had to clutch the side of the kitchen table as he heard the new pained tortured screams of his best friend.

"Hmmm I guess he hasn't got much to say. But I do, so you're going to listen carefully, say yes if you understand."

"Yes."

"Good boy, now I have a game for us to play and the prize is our one and only Consulting Detective. I will send you a little puzzle for you to solve leading to the location of your beloved. But I haven't mentioned the best bit, are you ready for this? When the clock strikes twelve and he hasn't been found, he will belong to me, his mind, body and soul will be mine! But if you find him you can go back to your pathetic domestic lives."

"What will happen if I don't find him, what will you do to him?" There was horror in his voice.

"Well…. That's really none of your concern dear, when he's mine I can do with him as I please. The puzzle should be arriving right about now, ta-ta." Moriarty chuckled then hung up the phone. John placed his phone back in his pocket and just stood still, what was happening, Sherlock-Sherlock was screaming, he was in pain and there was nothing John could do, he wanted to scream but nothing came out.

He walked down the stairs as the postman knocked on the door, there was a package for him, it was sealed in a large brown bag with the small outline of a magpie on the back, it was incredibly heavy, he closed the door and carefully opened the parcel, at the bottom was a piece of a rusty chain, It was filthy and covered in a red substance that spread up the side of the parcel, it was blood.

"Shit!" John didn't touch the chain, but took out the Polaroid photo that accompanied it; it too was covered in the liquid, he held it with care as he looked at the scene. It was Sherlock, his face was cut and blood was trickling down his cheek onto the tape that covered his mouth, he was asleep or unconscious, John didn't know, but he looked like he was in pain. He couldn't see any background apart from the tiles that Sherlock was leaning on. Where the hell was he John thought?

"Lestrade, you need to get here now, he's got him; the bastard has Sherlock!" Lestrade arrived ten minutes later, he was greeted by a panicked John who was pacing around the living room.

"John-John?" John finally looked up as Lestrade took the parcel from the coffee table he winced as he saw the contents of the package.

"Jesus Christ! Is that-"

"Blood? Yeah two guesses whose blood it is."

"Sherlock's?"

"Yeah, I've called Anderson, he can identify for sure if it's his or not, but I think we already have our answer, especially when you see the photograph." Lestrade sat down on the sofa as he looked at the blood stained photo.

"What does he want?" John told him all about the phone call, about the game and about the prize, he was utterly shocked, they only had two hours until twelve O clock.

"I'm not Sherlock! I can't do this, he's the brilliant one, I'm just the sidekick, God I-I don't know what to do."

"Here's what you're going to do, you're going to stop all this bull shit because Sherlock might be a good man but you're a great one, he needs you right now so were going to take this to Anderson and find out where the hell he is." John felt like he had been hit in the gut, but he needed to hear it.

The journey to Scotland Yard was slow but once there Anderson took the parcel from Lestrade and carefully let the chain fall out on to the white forensic table, he began to take swabs of the blood and of the chain, his investigation would take a while but John was determined to help as much as he could.

"Right, I have cross referenced the blood on the chain to the blood sample we have of Sherlock's on his file, it's a match I'm afraid, although the blood is practically fresh, a few hours old I would say. I also found a large quantity of chlorine on the metal as well as a substantial amount of pathogenic microorganisms; these are found on the skin of humans, mostly small children and the elderly. The chain itself is extremely old and covered in rust; this could be from prolonged exposure to oxygen or water. It's difficult to tell which one but considering the amount of chlorine I found it's most likely to be from water."

"Thanks Anderson, I know you have never liked Sherlock but I think he would appreciate this."

"No offence John but I'm not doing this for him, I'm doing this for you, I know how much you care about him so I will help as much as I can to get the arrogant sod back, it's not the same without him." John was gobsmacked that the words of kindness had come from Anderson's mouth, but he needed to think about Sherlock right now.

"So the chain is from a body of water, the chlorine is obvious, so-a swimming pool?" Lestrade looked at John then rushed out to get Donovan.

"I need all the pool facilities in this side of London, now!" Donovan got to work searching.

"Sir, the closest is Bristol South Swimming pool; it's been closed down since the bombings and matches the criteria."

"Right lets go, John we found him."

The fax machine beeped as they began to leave his office, Greg ripped the paper out and read the new message.

_Did you think it would be that easy dears, he will be moved with each new puzzle you receive, there will now be three locations, sorry I'm so changeable-JM_


	10. Chapter 10

They tip toed into the dark swimming pool with trepidation, they knew Sherlock wasn't there, he had been moved. The place had been shut down since Moriarty's bombings. The place gave John memories that he wanted to forget, of the bomb strapped to him and of the night they met the one and only consulting criminal, and not to mention the night Sherlock was raped! That memory was a reoccurring one, how he was in the flat when it happened and how the man he loved nearly died in front of his eyes.

It was dark, cold and dismal inside, the lights had been blown and the windows boarded up, the only light came from the torches of Lestrade's men, it had an eerie feel to it. The changing room curtains were torn and damp and John held his nose as the whole establishment smelt of rot and decay, the tiles around the pool were collecting dust and grim black outlines of dirt. Lestrade ordered his men to shower the place for any sign of a potential threat; whilst they were looking John stepped towards the edge of the pool and jumped down into the desolate pit, he held his torch towards the deep end and saw the thick metal chain in the far corner, he ran over to find a small puddle of blood at his feet.

"Lestrade!" Lestrade and a few of his men followed to John's cry into the drained pool, they stopped next to him as they saw the red liquid on the tiles, the side of the pool was covered in more Polaroid photos, John had to look away as he saw the torture of Sherlock Holmes. He was here in front of these tiles, gagged and blindfolded; under the black blindfold deep red blood fell from his eye and from his nose, he looked in complete agony, his plum shirt had been torn and was stained as well as his black trousers.

"He was here, Shit!" he sighed and started to lift himself out of the empty pool until Lestrade stopped him.

"John! There's another brown envelope addressed to you."

John took the small brown envelope and opened it, there was a bottle wrapper and a brand new photograph, Sherlock was lying on a floor this time, a hard, concrete floor, his curls were damp and he was surrounded by stacks of bottles. John flicked the envelope around to look at the small inscription on the back.

_You only have an hour and half left Johnny Boy, Tick Tock-JM_

Back at Scotland Yard, they analysed the bottle wrapper, which was in fact an old label from a water company that went bust ten years ago. John sat in Lestrade's office as they both listened to Donovan's results.

"Sir, the label was from a company called 'Stream' they were the leading distilled bottled water company in England until the CEO, Henry Worth was mysteriously killed, after that the company went bankrupt and the employees were made redundant by the union, after that they stored all the equipment in a factory down in Essex. Anderson can confirm that it was Holmes's blood, at least fifteen minutes fresh, which means that they must have moved him mere minutes before we stormed the place." John turned the photograph in his hand staring at it every so often, he refused to look at Sherlock, instead he focused on the background, he could see a few bottles scattered around the floor where Sherlock lie.

"You said the equipment was stored, is it possible that a few bottles still remain?"

"All the bottles would still be there, they're not in production anymore and they haven't been for over ten years."

"Look at the photo, what's in the background?" Donovan took the photo and looked directly at the space around the detective.

"The concrete looks like an industrial estate, but I see where you're going with this, he's surrounded by bottles."

"Is there a possibility that he could be there, its old and abandoned, sounds like somewhere Moriarty would go, where did you say the factory was?"

"Tilbury in Essex." They all rushed out of the office and headed towards the next destination.

Sherlock winced as he took another blow to his stomach, he screamed into his gag as he felt the metal boot crack his rib. He closed his eyes tightly and breathed deeply through the pain, he didn't know how much more he could take of this. How long had he been here? A week, a few days, it was uncertain; he must have been unconscious for some time. He prayed that he would black out again, to be taken by death, but nothing came apart from the next blow to his chest. All he could see was the darkness from his blindfold; he knew he was bleeding that was obvious as he could feel it dripping from his chin and onto his chest. The side of his face rested on the cold concrete as tears started to soak the cloth over his eyes.

His hands had been tied behind his back and his ankles were attached to one other as well, he was completely helpless. The rope started to cut into his wrists as he was lifted into the air and slammed back down on to the hard floor.

"That's enough Seb, I want him alive not dead, is that too much to ask?" Moriarty cocked his head to the side as he saw the weak sight of his detective; Moran took a few steps backwards as Moriarty leant down and began to stroke Sherlock's blood soaked curls, he located the cracked rib through his shirt and begun to push, Sherlock struggled as Jim held him down and drove harder into his chest, Moriarty heard Sherlock's muffled screams through the gag as he finally felt the snap of the now broken rib, the blood drained from his face as he collapsed, the broken rib punctured his deathly, white skin causing an open wound in his chest. Moriarty clicked his fingers and Moran bent down to pick up the wrecked body.

"Johnny Boy should be here in about ten minutes so it's time for us to go, put him in the car." Moran left with Sherlock as Moriarty placed the final note on the floor.

"It's time this game came to a close."


	11. Chapter 11

John picked up the small note that was left on the hard concrete floor of the abandoned factory, it had all the same elements of the other envelopes, brown and the image of a magpie on the back, Lestrade looked around with his men as John read the note.

_The home is where the heart is. Ditch the dodo! You know where I am-JM_

John was bewildered; Of course he knew where Moriarty was, back where it all began. But he knew he had to leave without Lestrade that was clear but he had a plan to out smarten the criminal, he wouldn't get away with it this time that was for sure. He tucked the note into his jacket pocket and made his way over to the detective inspector.

"Ahh Johnny Boy I'm so glad you're here." John walked into the living room of his flat to find Moriarty sitting at the table behind a glass chess set. His heart felt heavy as Sherlock was cuffed and gagged next to Moran on the floor next to the fireplace, his face was covered in blood and his eyes were purple and bruised, John had to hold back tears as he saw the red bandage across his chest, what had Moriarty done to him? His clothes were ruined as was his body, it made him feel sick, he clutched his knees to hold his balance as Sherlock let out a soft moan.

"J-J-Jo-John" The words broke his heart, his detective and lover was so close to death. His voice sounded as he looked, tired and close to unconsciousness.

"Just let him go."

"But I haven't won the game yet, what kind of a man would I be if I didn't hold to my end of the bargain." This made John livid, how could this man sit here in his home and tell him of the decency of men.

"I was getting bored John, and I hate to be bored, so I thought this would be more fun. The final game, chess. The same rules apply, if I win I get the delectable detective and so the other way around." John hesitated as Moriarty gestured to the seat opposite him; he sat down and cast a look at Sherlock who was starting to slowly close his eyes.

"Except I have a few more rules to this game." Jim smiled as he indicated towards the consulting detective.

"Whenever I take one of your chess pieces, our dear Sherlock here gets 250 volts shot through his body, just to spice up the game a bit; I will give you a demonstration." He signalled to Moran who flicked the switch igniting the volts through Sherlock's body, he struggled against his bindings as his whole body trembled, his eyes rolled back into his head as he attempted to scream, he collapsed as the voltage stopped.

"You barbaric son-of-a bitch!" John spat the words at him, but knew that if he made a try for Sherlock, Moriarty would kill him.

"Now now Doctor." They both leant forward for a better view of the chess board, it had a glass base with crystal pieces and it was beautiful. But John couldn't help fight the feeling that the board was covered in Sherlock's blood, which it would be if he lost.

"Shall we begin?"

Moriarty made the first move then John, the game lasted more than an hour, John glanced over at Sherlock who was still recovering from the last electric shock, he had sweat rolling down from his temple and on to his bruised lips, he was in pain and John couldn't help think that it was his fault, Moriarty had taken all his pawns and now his bishop.

"Oh and another, hit it Sebastian." Moran flicked the switch to Sherlock's torture once more. He moaned as his whole body convulsed, his head was wrenched back from the shock and his nose started to bleed as the electrocution came to a halt, for now.

"So is this how you get your kicks? By torturing innocent men?"

"Oh John you have no idea just how insane I am, I'll show you one day, possibly when we're not playing over the broken detective."

"He's not broken." Moriarty giggled as he turned to look at the frail body on the floor.

"Mmmmm your right, he's perfect, just the way I like my toys."

"I need to know what you have done to him."

"Let's see… I fucked him which is more than I can say for you Johnny boy, I also broke his rib and nose, Sebastian here had some fun with him I believe…hmm we both did. What else did I do? Oh yes, I drugged, raped and beat him, actually I'm amazed he's still alive, any normal human would of died by now, that's what makes him special, he can endure so much pain yet still fight me…fascinating." John regretted his question, he wanted to be sick.

He concentrated back to the board, he was so close to Moriarty's king now, it had to happen fast; he looked at his watch then back to the board.

"How do I know you're going to keep your word if I win?" Jim looked at John with malice in his dark eyes; they reflected his soul, empty.

"You don't."

"Then check mate!" Moriarty started to laugh hysterically as Sherlock's head was wrenched back once again by the electric shock; John rushed to his side, held his head as his body went rigid.

"I won now let him go." He shouted over at Moriarty who was staring at the glass board. How could he have lost?

"How the hell did you win?" He spat the words at John who was clutching Sherlock to his chest; he could feel the broken rib against his chest.

"I was taught by the best."

"BY WHO?" Sherlock coughed as he looked his torturer in the eye.

"B-by you-yours tru-ly." Sherlock flinched as Moran stood.

The door to 221B suddenly burst open.

"Put your hands behind your head, NOW!" Lestrade aimed his gun at Moriarty's head as his men surrounded the living room. Jim followed the orders as he smiled at John.

"James Moriarty, you under arrest for the rape and kidnap of Sherlock Holmes, you do not have to say anything, but anything you do say can and will be held against you in a court of Law." Moran was lead out of the flat and the paramedics were called in. Moriarty was still being cuffed as John held Sherlock's hand.

"Well played John Watson."

Sherlock sat on the step of 221B as Moriarty was put in to the back of the police car, he was tired but the morphine was starting to kick in, he's pain was starting to decrease.

"Sherlock, Bloody hell what are you doing you need to go to the hospital." John sat next to him and placed a blanket around his shoulders.

"I h-have been to the hospital for worse reasons than a broken rib and nose, w-why should now be any d-different?" John sighed at how unbelievable this man could be.

"You're struggling to breath, I can hear it." John tried to lift him but Sherlock remained on the step, breathing in the crisp morning air of London, so peaceful.

"J-John?"

"Yes what is it, are you okay, do you need oxygen, morphine, are you cold?"

"John! I need for you to be quite, just sit with me for a while."Sherlock took John's hand and held it tightly.

"I thought I might lose you, again, it's a good thing you taught me how to play chess." They both giggled as John wrapped his arms around his detective's neck.

"Just promise me something."

"Anything."

"Promise me you won't leave again, even if it is to get the bloody milk." He winced as he smiled.

"Mr Holmes the ambulance is ready, would you like to accompany him sir?" John nodded at both the paramedic and Sherlock; he helped him to stand as they both got into the back of the ambulance. Sherlock's eyes watered as he looked out at 221B, the pain of nearly losing his home and the man he loved hit him hard as he lied back on to the ambulance bed.


	12. Chapter 12

Sherlock sat with his legs crossed as his therapist took out her note pad, this was their third meeting this week, Sherlock had been reluctant to co-operate with her but John had accompanied him this time. John sat quietly in the corner of the room as a solid point for the detective to focus on.

"Now Mr Holmes, this is our third session, your partner has supported you by being here today, he is your focal point so whenever you have difficulty expressing yourself or find a particular memory distressing I want you to look at him, is that okay?" Sherlock looked at John and nodded to the therapist.

"You were abducted, tell me more about this, when did it happen and how did it make you feel?" The detective hesitated, closed his eyes as he started to relive the memory, he hadn't told John anything about Moriarty's torture and he knew this was going to shock him.

"That night…John and I…" He slowly turned to look at John, his eyes told him more than words could and he believed in him, he knew he could do it.

"That's it Sherlock, take it slow it's going to be hard at first."

"John and I attempted to...but I couldn't…not that I didn't want to but I was afraid that I wasn't strong enough, to have someone touch me the way he did. I still feel him sometimes creeping along my spin, the pain of being touched is excruciating, his hands on my body...I left that night to clear my head and I was angry, livid at myself for not being in control of my own body. I walked in the cold and the dark down to a nearby café, where Moriarty followed me…" John nodded as approval.

"What happened Sherlock?"

"He-umm-he drugged me through my coffee; he gave the powder to the waitress who accommodated his needs, I didn't even acknowledge him giving it to her, that's how frightened I was. His very presence scared the shit out of me knowing that he had possessed my body; he abused it and destroyed the man I was. He broke me." A tear slid down his cheek as he saw the face of the man that haunted his dreams.

"I can still see him now when I close my eyes, his body looming over me, whispering in my ear…by the time I realised what he had done it was too late, the next thing I was waking up alone."

The therapist frowned as she handed him a tissue, he refused and looked down to the floor, John rubbed his eyes as he looked at the man he loved and never had he admired his courage before today, Sherlock blinked the tears away as he regained his equilibrium.

"Do you know where you were, why you were there?"

"I woke up on a tiled floor, my wrists were cuffed to a chain that was connected to the wall; of course I knew where I was it was a hardly difficult deduction, the tiles, the smell, he took me back to where we first met, the pool." He looked over to John as he knew.

"And what did he do to you Sherlock? This may be difficult for you but I feel for you to move on you need to let all this out, it's the only way."

Sherlock took a deep breath and closed his eyes, he searched through his mind palace to the door he kept locked, every deep memory came from this room, he was about to open it, but he paused as he slowly put the key into the hole, it all had to come out no matter how hard the memory, he owed that much to John.

"He-he stripped me whilst Moran held down my legs, I tried not to make a sound, to not show weakness but then he started to-to touch me…I'm sorry I can't do this." Sherlock abruptly stood and made his way for the door, John followed as he saw the tears streaming from his face.

"Sherlock Stop!" He collapsed into the corner of the room covering his face.

"Sherlock its okay you're done so well."

"No not well enough…. I'm so sorry John…I have let you down." John crouched down and held his partner as close as he could, he could hear him sobbing as he relived the painful memories, it was heart breaking to see the man he loved in so much terror and fear; he curled his fingers through Sherlock's hair as he started to slowly calm down.

"You could never let me down; I love you so much. This is your decision, you can run from it or you can face it and tell it that no one breaks Sherlock Holmes, but whatever you decide I will stand by you always." He held Sherlock's face in-between his hands as he spoke; his eyes were red but full of hope.

"Now take your time Mr Holmes, this is difficult I know but the only way you're going to be able to fight it, is if you talk."

"I heard his laughter as I woke up…I tried to get up but…I-I couldn't move, his hard voice echoed off the walls, that voice…sometimes words are more deadly that actions, how right they were." He sat up straighter and cleared his throat.

"I- I tried to fight back but my body just…wouldn't move, I begged him to stop, please I said, it's stupid to think that a tiny word like please could stop such a man. He lifted my legs no problem, they were dead, no life, no movement just un-ending pain. I-I screamed as he entered but I was soon mute, I had no voice left! Just kill me I kept thinking anything…just end it." He held his hand to his mouth as he took another deep breath, John could see the effect on Sherlock, his face grew paler and his eyes were getting lower, he was exhausted from relieving his hell.

"I couldn't breathe from the blows I received to my abdomen, never ending abuse that continued one after the other, I felt my nose finally break after a few hits to my face, but I did nothing I-I just laid there and took it, So much blood…" Sherlock started to pant and hyperventilate; John rushed down in front of him and took his hand. The therapist watched as she saw the tender moment between the two men.

"I need you to take deep breaths for me Sherlock, they're just memories and they can't hurt you anymore, look, look at me and think of the good memories, come on I know you can do it. Think of me." Sherlock opened his eyes and looked into John's, his breathing started to decrease as he thought of the good instead of the bad.

"The first day we met at-at Barts."

"That's it, what else come on, remember." He closed his eyes once more.

"When we kissed at Christmas under the mistletoe." John smiled and laughed as he was reminded of the memory.

"Mrs Hudson nearly had a heart attack. What else."

"The night we slept together in the same bed, your bed if I recall…you held me and didn't let go until I fell asleep."

"I never will let go." He opened his eyes once more, his breathing was normal once more. He leant down to John and tilted his chin to meet his lips, he hesitated and whispered.

"When you told me you loved me." He touched John's lips tenderly.

"The good outweigh the bad and I promise to fill your life with the happiest memories I can possibly give."

Mycroft walked down the long corridor and towards the metal door at the end, it was sealed with a dead lock that only he had the key to. He held his umbrella in his left hand as he perused the brown file in his right.

"When did he arrive?"

"Yesterday Mr Holmes, he has been under surveillance ever since."

"And?"

"No co-operation and he still hasn't said anything yet Sir." They reached the end of the corridor where Mycroft saw the man he so loathed through the small window in the door, he was crouched down in the middle of the room.

"I want him broken and tortured until he talks do you understand." Mycroft turned to walk back down to the exit but was stopped.

"Yes sir, but he has said something…a name." His patience was wearing thin as he looked back at the young security officer.

"What name would that be?"

"Sherlock."


	13. Chapter 13

**One month later**

Sherlock rushed up the stairs to his small, untidy flat, his coat blew behind him as the cold winter wind rushed past him, he burst through the door but John was nowhere in sight.

"John?"

"Mmmm I'm in here." John popped his head around the kitchen door, he wore his usual cream jumper and jeans; he placed his tea bags in the bin and began to stir the fresh tea pot as the detective took off his blue scarf and coat.

"Tea?"

"Please." The scene was very domestic to an outsider but the relationship of Holmes and Watson was far more complex, especially with the glass bottles of decaying fingers and toes on the kitchen sides, this was perfectly normal for John who was used to seeing parts of St Bartholomew's morgue in his home, he accepted it. John poured the tea as Sherlock calmed his breathing; he had just heard the good news himself.

"So, I had a phone call this afternoon."

"I don't have your skills of deduction dear tell me who it was." He smiled sarcastically at the man across the table as he handed him his tea.

"It was my doctor." John stopped what he was doing and stood in front of the man he loved, he knew the subject matter of the conversation and they would finally know Sherlock's results.

"And…come on what did he say?" The detective smiled and nodded as John yelped with joy. He was clear.

"I can't believe it, no HIV or STI's?"

"After many blood and internal tests I'm clean and now I am finally free from him, he's gone." He wrapped his arms around John's waist as he planted a long kiss on his partner's soft lips.

"I'm so pleased for you. So does this mean…we can…you know?" He bit down on his bottom lip as the detective sipped his scolding tea, he had been trying to get Sherlock to agree for weeks but now that he was clear it was the perfect opportunity.

"John…I may be clear but should we really take that risk?"

"I know it's a risk but we are both negative and after this news, it sounds like the perfect idea to me." John knew how to wrap Sherlock around his finger, he would do anything for John and he knew it, he started to rub his leg on the inside of Sherlock's as he tangled his fingers through his brown curls. The detective moaned as John lusciously licked his lips.

"Please." John had never begged for anything before but he needed this, it would connect them further. Sherlock closed his eyes as he felt his cock twitch through his trousers.

"Tell me what you want?" His voice was low and soft but his words could send John over the edge without even being touched, he trailed his hand down to the buttons of Sherlock's shirt and began to undo them one at a time as he whispered into his ear.

"I want you to touch me and make love to me raw." The shirt hung open to reveal the scared torso, he made his way down his chest with his tongue as Sherlock tilted his head back in ecstasy.

"More." This time his voice was hard and wanting, he needed this just as much as John did.

"Fuck me bareback, cum in my tight arse."

With those words Sherlock shrugged off his shirt and began to lift the cream jumper over John's head, he grabbed the front of his white shirt and pulled him upstairs into their bedroom. Closing the door behind him he unbuckled his belt and undid his trousers, he never took his eyes off of John who was doing the same, the love he had for this man was unreal, his imperfections were beautiful and his body breathtaking. Even the small scar on his shoulder that served as the reminder of his past, that's all the scars were to him now, reminders of the man he once was and of the trouble he faced to be the man he is now.

He slowly made his way forward to his partner who embraced him welcomingly, the room was cold from the open windows but it didn't matter, the heat that radiated off of the lovers could have kept them warm for hours. Sherlock slowly entered John's mouth twisting and connecting their tongues together, the world stopped around them as they explored each other, nothing else existed, just the two of them held in a passionate embrace.

Sherlock fell back on to the bed as John leant over and began to drag his tongue down his lean body, fist over his hard nipples gently sucking before moving downwards and across his soft scars, Sherlock cringed from the skin to scar contact, they were still sensitive to touch. John lowered down to Sherlock's groin, starting at the sides then up his hard length to the top of his weeping head before licking back down. Sherlock moaned as John licked off the pre-cum from the top of his cock. The hotness of his tongue made the detective whimper in pleasure before his blogger took him fully into his warm mouth.

The light from the lamps outside were beginning to come on in the London streets as John carefully sucked and rubbed at Sherlock's twitching cock, he could feel his own needs building as he ran his tongue up and down the long length stopping at the top. He leant back up to his partner who was attempting to catch his breath, he opened his eyes and passionately kissed John as he turned him over; he planted his cheek and neck with wet kisses as he spooned his lover.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" John had never been more certain of anything, he wanted to feel closer to Sherlock than he had ever been and he wanted that contact.

"Yes." His voice was low as his detective pushed his legs apart slightly, he spat onto his finger and began to gently circle John's area; he kissed his shoulder as he inserted a long finger, his violinist fingers were delicate and a perfect fit for his blogger who closed his eyes as Sherlock entered another wet finger. John was nice and wet as Sherlock positioned himself; he let out a small pant as he entered his partner. John was right; the skin to skin contact was exhilarating like nothing he had ever experienced before. John rested his head on to Sherlock's shoulder as he began to thrust deeper into him.

John was in heaven, he clutched the back of Sherlock's neck as the thrusts came harder, he screamed with delight as his detective hit his prostate. The small beads of sweat trickled down the detective's torso and onto John's back, he held his hips closer to his own as he penetrated deeper. John pumped at his own hard cock in rhythm with Sherlock; it was as if they were the only two people in the world, the only ones that mattered; humanity froze over as the lovers became one. John screamed Sherlock's name as he entered the world of pure bliss, nothing could penetrate that bubble of paradise, his eyes rolled back as he felt the warm substance on his fingers, he panted hard as his partner grunted, he kept his position as he came inside of John, he took a deep breath as he collapsed his head onto the bed.

He gently pulled out and closed his eyes, John sighed with happiness as he felt the liquid trickle down the inside of his leg; he lifted his head and rested it on Sherlock's bare chest he was hot and sweaty but small goose bumps started to appear on his forearms from the open window that let in the glacial winter wind. Sherlock sat up and lighted a cigarette, he had been smoking ever since his abduction, it was his way of dealing and accepting it.

John grabbed the blanket at the end of the bed and placed it around both their shoulders; he kissed the top of his pale arm as Sherlock pulled him back down to the bed. They both looked up to the ceiling as the smoke circled through the air.

"John?" He opened his eyes and turned to face his partner.

"Mmmmm" He finished his cigarette and placed it in the ash tray next to the bed, John sat up with him as he looked into his dark eyes.

"I'll never be fixed…I-I am permanently damaged…I'm not good company and the flat has seen better days…my mess is irritatingly tidy and I sometimes shut off for days…"

"Sherlock where are you going with this?" He stood up and paced back and forth. John was confused and worried.

"What I'm trying to say is that my life has never been perfect…except when you came along, I have never cared about someone as much as I care about you and it scares the hell out of me. You saved me from a life of loneliness and I can never repay you for that, you loved me when no one else could…"

"Sherlock-."

"Marry me John."


End file.
